( STORY )
from: CHAPTER THREE~ THE DELIVERY JOB
characters: DRAGON-TAIL (pov), RED RAIN
It is early Autumn in the highlands of Kronaca. Two members of the Hundred Curses assassin clan, Dragon-Tail and Iron-Wind, set a building on fire, baiting Kuan Yan and his companions into a trap so they can obtain the Third Scripture of the Three Blossom Society. The trap has failed. Defeated by Mad Jack Tyrsson, Dragon-Tail is forced to flee, while Iron-Wind is killed in combat with Korvuus and Lonzo. Escaping into the night, Dragon-Tail must lick his wounds, but his defeat was witnessed by another member of the Hundred Curses, who soon after pays him a visit...
The man with the sword shivered in the sharp night air. He sat cross-legged on a rocky outcropping, with a darkened valley spread out far below him. A gnarled tree, still clinging to purple leaves, cast a dappled shadow over him in the moonlight.
Mercifully, the wind was calm, the night still. He tried to empty his mind, to ignore the cold sweat coating his body and the throbbing pain of his wounds. He could feel the slow chill creeping through him as his blood oozed from fresh gashes in his flesh.
Even so, his face still burned with the chagrin of defeat. His clothing was filled with the thick smell of smoke from the burning warehouse he had been forced to flee only a short time ago. His weapon - the Nine-League-Sword - lay across his lap, naked and gleaming after having lost its scabbard.
He reached into his robes and produced a small envelope of rice paper. He carefully unfolded it to reveal the half-dozen greenish pellets contained within. He placed one of the medicine pellets on his tongue and swallowed hard. Soon, his bleeding would be staunched, and his strength would return… but the sting of his failure still chafed.
Abruptly, the man with the sword tensed. A gentle breeze sent two stray leaves fluttering down around him, but what had made him shudder was not the breeze, but rather the faint charnel odour it carried with it. His heart thudded hard in his chest, and he felt a bloom of unbearable dread pressing against his back. It was as if a great heavy blade were suspended inches above him. It was the excruciating awareness felt by motionless prey when the searching jaws of a predator brush against their neck.
He drew in a long, slow breath, and spoke out in a firm tone, daring even to affect a hint of scorn. “Number 91… Red Rain. I fear the scent of blood betrays your presence."
“It does when it suits me." The man with the parasol stood a dozen paces away. In the shadow of his parasol, his eyes were not fixed on the man with the sword at all, but beyond... to the valley and the moon. His voice was nonchalant, even bored. “At least in my case, Dragon-Tail... it is the smell of other people's blood that clings to me, not my own."
Dragon-Tail curled his lip in anger, but he said nothing. Although the newcomer had not stepped any closer, it still felt too close for comfort. It was as if Red Rain’s breath was in his ears and his blade at his throat. His presence cast a pall larger and darker than the tree's shadow, and it weighed heavily on Dragon-Tail.
Red Rain lowered and closed his parasol. As it folded upon itself, it created a low, rasping sound, like knives against whetstone. He rested the parasol on his shoulder and stepped out of the shadows.
“You underestimated the monk's friends because they're western barbarians. You are too proud, Number 78. That pride cost you the fight... and it cost Iron-Wind his head."
“So... you watched and did nothing?"
“I watched and I learned."
Dragon-Tail gritted his teeth. “I see. And what did you learn?"
“The monk’s friends are stronger than they appear, and now they know that the Hundred Curses seek the scroll. You won't be able to challenge them alone."
“Together, then. Iron Wind was just a perfumed Jyongu fop, but you and I are both civilized men of the Tianxia Kingdoms. They would not stand against our joined forces. We could split the bounty before any of the others find them..."
“I work alone. I’ll act when it pleases me, Dragon-Tail."
Dragon-Tail turned to look Red Rain in the eye, wincing from the pain of his wounds. “This isn’t just a contract. This order comes directly from Master One-Hundred.”
Red Rain simply shrugged.
Dragon Tail narrowed his eyes. “Come to think of it, were you not dispatched to find the First Scroll from Hong Fortress? I heard that all the Curses who followed that trail have disappeared. So why are you here instead, seeking the Third Scroll from some fat, lowborn monk?”
“I have my own reasons. I need not share them with you. But let me ask you… did you know that this fat monk defeated Chun Lau-Fung in a duel?”
This gave Dragon-Tail pause. “Dancing Ghost Chun? Of the Cloud Mountain Sect? Here?”
“The same. It seems they are also seeking the Third Scroll. I have just come from Ascenzia, and learned that Chun Lau-Fung now sails back to Tianxia in defeat. This monk and his companions are bound for Ladroa, with others from our clan on their trail. Snakeskin Devil and The Shoe-Monger are already in Ladroa. Ghost-Hand and Black Wasp were pursuing by the main road, so they should arrive in Ladroa before them. You would do well to join with these others in the city if you wish to challenge the monk’s friends."
Dragon-Tail grimaced. “Join forces with those Oyama jugglers? Or that reptilian freak and the street urchin? Iron Wind, with his painted face and feigned courtly manners was bad enough..."
The man with the parasol interrupted with a dry laugh. His tone was even, his eyes downcast. “Such an upright man of Yang you are! In fact, you pretend to be a gentleman, but you're just another killer... little more than scum." Red Rain's voice trailed off as he lifted his eyes wistfully to the moon. “Just like me." he added softly.
Dragon-Tail's face flushed and his grip tightened on his weapon. Even injured, he could not let such an insult pass. The man with the parasol had turned his back to him, within easy striking distance of Dragon-Tail’s Nine-League-Sword... such arrogance!
A long moment passed, with only the breeze stirring faintly between them. Finally, a wry, humourless smile spread across Red Rain's face, and he turned a sleepy eye to Dragon-Tail. “Curse Number 78… will I have to claim your plaque today, then? Or has your reason returned?"
Dragon-Tail dropped his gaze. In a fevered instant, he had imagined six different sword strokes he could have used to attack Red Rain from behind… but he knew in his heart that each one would only assure his death.
Red Rain shrugged. “Too bad. The reward for recovering the plaque of a fallen Curse would have provided me some pocket money. I noticed the monk’s friends took Iron Wind’s plaque, so perhaps you’ll get another chance to fight the big man in armour for it.”
Dragon-Tail’s teeth clenched audibly. “I don’t know why the fearsome Number 91 would dally so long before completing his mission.”
Red Rain rubbed his chin indifferently, ignoring the question.
Dragon-Tail’s demeanor shifted, and he bowed his head. “Unless you join forces with me, we may lose this chance. This fat monk is not a known hero of the Three Blossoms. He is undoubtedly travelling to Ladroa to pass the Third Scroll to someone else. Perhaps someone much stronger.”
Red Rain’s face was still turned away. “I’m counting on it.” he murmured.
Dragon-Tail did not know what to think of this, but it occurred to him that he had one last arrow in his quiver “It seems you are so well-informed, Red Rain. Surely then, you are already aware that both Number 89 and Number 93 departed from Yang Kingdom some time ago on the orders of Master One-Hundred?”
Another long silence passed, and from this Dragon-Tail took some satisfaction in knowing that his information was new to Red Rain. “By this,” he continued, “of course I mean the esteemed Scholar Wu and that lout Notch-Blade. Needless to say, they are not travelling together.” He smiled sardonically.
Red Rain frowned. If his face had been visible to Dragon-Tail in that moment, it would have betrayed a hint of annoyance. “I was not aware of this.”
“In the Yang Kingdom before I left, this was known. It seems you are not the only high-ranked Curse seeking the scrolls in this foreign land.” Dragon-Tail grinned, savouring his moment. “Scholar Wu would travel in luxury, no doubt. He does not pursue simple contracts, but acts only when commanded… and even then, at his own pace. But Notch-Blade is unpredictable. He might show up tomorrow, or maybe next year. And he has been known to be disagreeable with others pursuing the same contract. But then, I’m sure the fearsome Red Rain has no fear of crossing his path…?”
After a pause, Red Rain nodded sagely. “Scholar Wu is an honorable, cultivated man. The only reason he rests at Number 89 is because he truly seeks only to perfect his skills. He takes contracts if they interest him, and doesn’t sully his blade on those beneath him. If he wishes to duel me for the Scroll… I suppose it would be an honour for a wretch like me to be killed by him.”
“And Notch-Blade? Do you want that stinking oaf taking the Scroll and gaining status in our clan?”
“Our clan of butchers, you mean? We all have unclean hands. For Notch-Blade, it just never occurs to him to rinse away that filth. He is a simpler beast than any of us. I… envy his contentment.” Red rain sighed. “Facing him is like standing next to a rotten tree in a windstorm. Or being bitten by a rabid dog chained to a post. There is nothing to be gained from it. It is better simply not to be in the way.”
Dragon-Tail could no longer contain himself. “You dress your cowardice and sloth in self-loathing, and wear it like the jade seal of heaven!” he hissed. “You show nothing but contempt for the Hundred Curses, and yet here you are, following the master’s orders like the rest of us!”
Even before Red Rain turned, Dragon-Tail sensed that it was already too late to raise his sword. A shock of hot air lashed his face, and a veil of purple leaves from the tree above fluttered down around him. He was not sure if he’d heard a clap of thunder or not, but there was a sudden roar in his eardrums and the odor of blood filled his nostrils. He had not seen the other man move, but Red Rain was now as close to him as a lover. His parasol still rested casually folded over his shoulder, and his eyes remained downcast and indifferent, but one arm was outstretched, and icy, steel-hard fingers were clamped upon Dragon-Tail’s throat.
“I could twist your head from your shoulders like plucking a plum blossom. There was a time when I believed such displays of power would bring me greatness. Now I know better... but still, I am a petty man with easy pleasures.”
Dragon-Tail considered begging, but he could not find air to pull into his lungs. Every tendon in his body was tensed to the point of snapping, and instead all he could do was shudder and twitch as the roar in his inner ears grew louder.
Then, mercifully, the searing, icy fingers relaxed their grip, and Dragon-Tail felt rivulets of chilled blood trickling from the points of contact. His Nine-League-Sword dropped from his hands and his knees buckled. His limbs felt numb, but every vein screamed as if full of fine broken glass.
“What technique... is this…?” Dragon-Tail gasped.
“The world you and I inhabit is an old poisoned well, choked with writhing vipers. You climb the ladder in our clan, thinking it will lead out of the pit and towards glory in the jianghu.” The man with the parasol’s sneer could be heard in his voice. “Know that the ladder means nothing to me. I have cast myself into this well because I deserve no better company. After all I have done, I am still selfish enough to desire only the death of one man above all others -- a far better man than I shall ever be.”
Dragon-Tail shook his head weakly, understanding not one word of this.
The man with the parasol looked away again, and his voice returned to its normal monotone. “When you have recovered, go to Ladroa. Gather the others, and track the monk… but counsel them not to act against him or try to take the scroll until I have concluded my business with him. Do this for me, and you may yet claim the Scroll for yourselves.”
Another shudder wracked Dragon-Tail’s body, and he felt a glimmer of strength return to his limbs through the pain. When he raised his eyes again, he stood alone on the moonlit ridge, and the cool autumn night was still but for his ragged breaths.
* * *
